


Reflections

by Kuolettava



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 21:52:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuolettava/pseuds/Kuolettava
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eridan muses on his own decisions throughout his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reflections

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a short drabble based on an idea I had a while back. It's a one-shot.

This world is a shit-hole and nothing anyone can say will convince me otherwise. You think you're doing right by someone, trying hard and doing everything that you can for them all because you have these feelings and they're honest. Probably the only really honest thing about you. You take forever to finally be able to work up that flimsy thing called courage to say something about it and, in a flash, it's all over. Before you can even think to rattle off all of the millions of different ways you have planned on saying anything, it all falls down around you.

I'm tired.

Screaming or crying, hating or loving, begging, pleading, asking. Nothing works. Nothing ever works. Happiness, joy, hope, they all give way to sadness and anger eventually. It was a fact that I readily ignored for so long in hopes of finding something better. Something I could lay claim to and actually be happy with. Something that I could reach out and hold and call mine in a way that no one else could ever have. I was such a fool to believe that I could ever have anything that substantial. It has always been my unfortunate gift to watch the world take away what I hold dear. No matter my efforts, it has all been in vain.

It's dark.

The worst feeling in the world is having everyone you have ever felt for in any way treat you like a sack of shit then leave you out to rot like a carcass too small to even be considered a meal. Jeers and jokes, I know all about them. The words that they pretend to whisper while they think you can't hear, the cares that they pretend to give but then abandon you to your thoughts, your vices. There is nothing in this world that I have found that has been able to save me from my own worst enemy.

It's cold.

The holiest of beings didn't stand a chance against my anger. It was the anger that they gave me. It was my own strongest weapon, their greatest downfall. Nothing quite lights a fire in the soul like a good case of anger. Some might call it madness; I call it the medicine that numbs the pain. It's far simpler to be angry than to be sad. Wrath is powerful, and sorrow is weak. I had to watch every feeble attempt, every sad grasp at what they thought would save them. Haven't they noticed? It's too late to be saved. It has always been too late.

It's wet.

There is only one sensible thing to do when you are out-gunned, out-manned, out-matched and anyone with any sense of self-preservation should be able to make that call. Apparently I was gifted with a group of fools. It doesn't matter. Had these people once stood up for me? Had they ever taken a single moment out of their oh-so-busy schedules to check on someone they said was their friend? How many falsehoods must one person endure before he cannot handle anymore? There was no place for me here. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew it was suicide, but that didn't matter. I'd rather die at the hands of the enemy than slowly be tortured into madness for one moment longer.

It's sticky.

Watching her blood spray from her in a blast of fuchsia was strangely satisfying. It was like I was given the opportunity to finally stand up for myself in a way that I was never able to before. All of the pain that she had caused me, all of the leading along, and all of her lying. They spread out of her in one quick blast and then she was gone. The only girl I ever felt so truly and deeply for. Despite my sense of victory I couldn't help but feel an over-whelming sense of pity. It didn't matter. Not now. Not when I had somewhere else to be, a place to leave to. It was long since time I found my graveyard. I had created so many, it was time I made my own. I would join her soon, of this I was certain. I no longer had any tears to shed for her. She had taken them all a long time ago and used them to fill her ocean.

It hurts.

Two more blasts would ensure that these sad excuses for beings wouldn't be able to bring forth any more of our pathetic race. I was sure that our race would end with us. All the better. I used to think that it was the land-dwellers that didn't deserve to live. I understand now that it was all of us. I cannot say that I have ever once found that we deserved to lay claim to another universe. It would only fall to ruin. The viridian mixed, clashed, with the perfect purple of our high blood princess. The fragments of our race's last Hope lying shattered around her. It was fitting that she find such an end, lost in the pieces of her sad yet appropriate role.

Oh _god._

The sound was tinny and I couldn't quite see. Vague outlines and glimmering white, the dull yet familiar growl of some distant animal as it tore through me. I could still see it. The bright, white light, as it cut through all of the darkness. The animal never stopped purring, soft and gentle in its ferocious chest. I wanted to touch it, that light. I had become accustomed to it. It followed me in everything that I did, but this wasn't warm. Not like I was used to. It was cold. So cold. I could barely see what I thought were my hands as I lifted them to the beast and its light.

Purple.

Mine.

Deliverance.

_Regret._


End file.
